


Little Green

by femmenerd



Series: Glimpses 'verse [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Crossover, Gen, Kid Fic, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-22
Updated: 2006-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 16:25:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1233271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmenerd/pseuds/femmenerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set well into the timeline for my longer Faith/Dean story <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1232683/chapters/2528110">Glimpses</a> (between <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1232683/chapters/2529370">"Road to Nowhere"</a> and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1232683/chapters/2529409">"Dance All Night"</a>). Massive spoilers for that story, but I think it might actually make sense without it.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Teenage girls are a pain in the ass–Faith’s always thought so, even when she was one herself.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>This is penance, Faith decides. Killers shouldn’t get to be domestic.</i></p><p> </p><p>Originally posted on LJ <a href="http://femmenerd.livejournal.com/156088.html">[here]</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Green

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the Joni Mitchell song. It doesn’t fit perfectly, but switch the gendered pronouns, and uh, just take in the love and regret in it. Warnings for angst, some schmoop, kid!fic, and Christmas. *face palm*

Teenage girls are a pain in the ass–Faith’s always thought so, even when she was one herself. And Jan is showing signs of rapidly becoming one ahead of time. Sulking and mood swings and rolled eyes–the whole bit. But mostly just with Faith–she’s still all sweetness and Daddy’s Girl with Dean. She’s his golden girl, and Dean sees no apparent incongruity in going off to whoever will listen about his daughter’s report cards while he continues to teasingly refer to his brother as Geekboy at every possible opportunity. 

At eleven years old, Jan is all arms and legs–long, awkward limbs that she doesn’t know what to do with. Sometimes Faith goes into her room and watches Jan sleep, blinking in confusion about how this became her life. A steady man and a _home_ and a little girl who looks almost nothing like her despite having spent nine months in Faith’s unwilling womb. In the night time stillness, there’s no complaining, no grudges, just sweet girl-breath on the pillow and a big, unexpected love pounding in Faith’s chest.

People always think Faith’s the babysitter or big sister when the two of them are out together. Maybe it’s because the pieces of demon inside of Faith keep her young (Buffy’s still a babe too). Maybe it’s because she still wears tank tops and dark lipstick and thick-soled boots instead of mom jeans and turtlenecks. Maybe it’s because her last name isn’t Winchester.

But Faith’s used to not giving a fuck what most people think. Who cares if half the town thinks Dean could do better? If they whisper at potlucks and school functions with their heads together. Jan gets good grades. The other kids like her. She’s something neither Faith or Dean ever were–she’s normal. Pretty fucking well-adjusted for the child of a slayer and a demon-hunter. And that makes Faith secretly proud, even if she could count the people who know she’s a mother on one hand easy. 

Her own child doesn’t even know. Well, she didn’t until now.

~

Faith’s swearing at the nonfunctional dishwasher when Jan walks in with a fistful of what looks like paper scraps in her hand. 

“Don’t you know language like that’s a bad influence on my young mind?” Jan snarks, her light brown ponytail vibrating with precocious, out-of-the-blue rage.

Faith glances up and sighs. “You’re a big girl now, kiddo. I think you can handle it.”

“Oh yeah? You sure I don’t need to be _protected_? You don’t think there are things I shouldn’t know? You know, like _secrets_.” Jan says all of this breathless and fast, angry voice full of meaning. 

Faith looks up for real now, taken aback. “What’re you going on about?” she asks, annoyed. This is _not_ a good time for this shit. She’s tired, and cranky, and none too psyched about the prospect of admitting defeat and having to ask Dean to fix the stupid machine. But Jan looks like she means business, forehead all scrunched up and serious. 

“I’m–I’m talking about how you treat me like I’m still a _baby_ , like I don’t know what’s going on around here.”

Faith’s about to say something about how girls who expect to be treated like grown-ups shouldn’t whine and pout, but then she gets a better look at what Jan’s holding out. 

Photobooth strips. Dozens of them. Old and yellowed and–Faith had thought–lost. Forgotten. 

“What’ve you got there, baby?” she says softly, even though she already knows.

Jan’s face is turning red, and blotchy, and suddenly Faith is scared. This has got her freaked out in a way that no vamp has ever been able to pull off. The last time Faith was this afraid was at the prospect of being somebody's mother--now that's exactly what she might lose.

“Don’t call me that!” Jan says vehemently, recoiling, and Faith’s eyes widen. A part of her _does_ want to run again, like it's instinct. But she stands still and stares across the kitchen into a little face that suddenly looks like a time-machine mirror image.

“I’m not your baby. Right, Faith? You’re _nobody_.” And then Jan’s running out of the room and doors are slamming. It’s awful. 

The photographs scatter across the tiles every which way. Faith stares down at the floor for long seconds before picking them up, hands shaking. 

They used to take these all the time; every town they went to that had an arcade or amusement park, the three of them would pile in. The boys elbowing each other and Faith mugging for the camera. Sam’s legs always had to stick out the side. Most of them are “three musketeers” shots, and they all look so young. Sam’s wearing hoodies instead of suit jackets, and neither he or Dean have even a touch of grey.

Faith’s heart is pounding as she flips through the strips, trying to be careful–they look like they might turn to dust any minute now. _He saved them all this time._ And for a second relief floods through her–the grateful joy that still surprises her all the time. That after what she did to him–to them–Dean never stopped loving her. 

Then she comes upon a rare one that’s just her and Dean. It’s out of focus and they’re kissing; she’s on his knee, sprawled out and laughing. _What the fuck was wrong with me? How did I ever leave_ that _?_

That’s when Faith comes back to the present and remembers the royally pissed-off kid upstairs. The girl that they made. 

Faith doesn’t blame her. This is still totally fucked up. 

~

When Dean comes home from the garage, he’s got a large pizza in one grease-stained hand and a six pack in the other. The house is quiet. All the lights are off. 

“Hey girls!” he calls out. “I’ve got grub.”

No one answers. 

So he turns on the TV and plops his ass down on the couch. The _Law & Order_ theme is echoing through the living room when Faith clomps down the stairs, leather jacket already on.

“You hungry, babe?” he asks, looking her up and down. 

“She knows, Dean,” Faith grinds out miserably, grabbing a handful of stakes. "Now she hates me."

“What?!” he says, mouth full of food. 

“Jan. She figured it out.”

Faith’s already halfway out the front door by the time Dean crosses the room, his hand on her shoulder, coveralls sliding down. 

“I just–I can’t do this right now,” Faith grunts, and slams the door.

~

It’s four AM when Faith gets back. There was nothing out tonight for her to kill. What’s the use of living on top of the only rural Hellmouth in North America if it doesn’t provide evil when you need it? 

She doesn’t bother getting undressed. Just climbs into bed with her jeans on, giving Dean a wide berth. Her skin is boiling but she pulls the covers up anyway, stealing Dean’s like he hates. Faith needs a fight. 

“Why didn’t you burn them?” she hisses, knowing he’s awake. 

“I just...couldn’t,” Dean says low, calm–refusing to give Faith what she wants. If this was anything else, they’d hash it out and then fuck like weasels and everything would be hunky dory.

This is different though–it isn’t just about them. 

~

“Was I an ugly baby? Is that why you didn’t want me?”

The words twist into Faith’s gut, but she stands there and takes it, because it’s a miracle that Jan even opened her bedroom door.

“You looked like your uncle Sam,” Faith replies slowly. “So no.”

“Oh _god_! Don’t tell me he’s my real father. We really are the most screwed up family ever." 

“Nope. I’m a lot of things, but a wench who cheats with her guy’s brother is not one of ‘em,” Faith says, figuring that at this point honesty is all she’s really got to work with. 

When Jan scowls, the first thing Faith thinks is “ _Figures she only looks like me when she’s pissed._ ” The second is “ _Please, please don’t let her end up like me._ ” The third is “ _Fuck you, Mom. How the hell was I supposed to know how to do this?_ ”

But even as Jan’s shutting the door in her face again, Faith’s also thinking about how Jan actually used the words “we” and “family” in the same sentence. 

~

This is penance, Faith decides. Killers shouldn’t get to be _domestic_. And women who abandon their newborn babies after the umbilical cord’s just been cut don't deserve a second chance. She told that to Dean a thousand times, but the dumbass insisted on forgiving her. 

All the same, these years of happiness have spoiled her, and Faith’s gonna fight for her girl.

That might include talking about her feelings though. Lame. 

~

“I can’t freaking take this anymore,” Dean shouts, slamming on the Impala’s brakes. Somehow they all three made it into the car, but he’s pulling over before they’re anywhere near the airport. “Thank god Sammy’s gonna be here. I’ve had it up to _here_ being stuck in a house with women who won’t talk to me.”

Neither Faith nor Jan say anything, but that doesn’t stop Dean. He swings around to address Jan in the back seat. “You should be mad at _me_ too, ‘cause I lied to you first.”

Jan opens and closes her mouth. Dean holds his hand out palm up. “And _you_ ,” he continues, glaring at Faith, “have gotta quit shutting me out. _Jesus._ ” He starts the ignition again, grumbling, “Women!” and peeling out. 

~

Sam’s a good sport, considering that he’s come to spend Christmas with a house full of crazy people. He helps Jan with her end of term homework, goes out drinking with Dean, talks shop with Faith. 

On Christmas eve, Faith can’t sleep. She loves this holiday, corny as it is, always has, and usually she revels in the fact that now she gets to share the lights and the nog and all that crap with more than just an empty hotel room. She likes buying shit for Jan, and there’s always a massive pile of presents under the tree. 

They’re playing at normal in the Winchester/Lehane household. Or at least she is. Dean and Jan are thick as thieves again, and Sam–well, Sam seems to have the unflappable expression they’re passing out to Watchers these days down cold. Faith can’t help but feel like she’s the one on the outside again–not that she doesn’t deserve it–but it sucks royally to feel like an impostor in your own digs.

“She’ll come around.” Sam’s voice catches Faith off-guard. She’d thought she was the only person awake. He’s sitting at the kitchen table in the dark in sweats and socked feet, no shirt. _Damn boy,_ Faith thinks. _It’s a good thing I’m a (usually) happily unmarried woman and you’re like my brother..._ She mentally slaps herself upside the head–like she needs a reminder that she really is a very bad person. 

“I didn’t want to forgive you either,” Sam says conversationally, sipping on a beer. “But despite being a pain in the ass a lot of the time, you really are a pretty loveable human, to Winchesters anyway.” He cracks a smile at that, and Faith almost joins him, but holds back. So Sam keeps going. “Come on, you’ve already proved you’re in it for the long haul all these years, and Jan’s a smart kid.”

“Yeah, I have no idea were she gets that from,” Faith says dryly, grabbing another beer from the fridge and sitting down. Bastard’s going to make her smile. _Damn it._

“My brother, on the other hand,” Sam begins as he slides a bottle opener over, “is an idiot.”

Faith raises an eyebrow. “And?”

“And he thinks you’re going to leave again,” Sam says matter-of-factly. 

“Wait. Hold up. Did Dean say that?” 

“Didn’t have to. The last time two people he loved started tearing into each other, one of them took off for California and didn’t call for three years.”

“Oh,” is all she says. 

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Sam says, standing up and patting her on the back. “See you in the AM.”

~

The next morning before opening presents, they all gorge themselves on pancakes and eggs and sausage a la Dean. Faith still doesn’t cook. But she did manage to fix the dishwasher by herself, which under ordinary circumstances would make her feel as triumphant as dusting a nest of vamps solo. She misses _her life_ , even if it was kind of a lie. 

Dean upstages all other gifts with the laptop he got for Jan, who rewards him by climbing like a puppy in his lap, all pretense of pre-adolescent maturity temporarily given up. Faith watches them wistfully from across the room. 

Dean looks so happy for a minute there, proud Papa to the max, until he looks up at Faith with pleading green eyes that make her feel equal parts loved and sick. She looks down at her hands and spaces out until Sam abruptly announces that he and Dean are going to the shooting range for the afternoon. It’s what they always do, but this time it feels like a set up. 

Faith and Jan haven’t been alone like this in weeks, it seems, and in all that time they’ve hardly said more than two words to each other that didn’t have something to do with homework or “Your Dad’s working late.” 

Now Faith wishes the girl would just yell at her and get it over with already. That’s what Lehanes always do. It’s also what Winchesters do if you push them enough. But instead Jan just stares out the window as Dean and Sam drive away, biting her lip and futzing with the flannel of her pajamas. They’re getting too small. Girl’s growing like a weed–she’s already almost taller than Faith.

After what seems like a million years, Jan turns around and stares Faith down with watery brown eyes–Little Girl Lost instead of raging ball of hurt and confusion. 

“What were you doing when I was a little girl? When you weren’t here with us–” Jan whispers. 

For a moment, Faith remains wordless–she doesn’t know if she can do this. 

“Missing you, kiddo,” Faith finally chokes out, rushing to scoop Jan up, thankful that she’s strong enough to still be able pick up her oversized progeny.

“I’m still mad,” Jan sobs raggedly into Faith’s T-shirt.

“Good. You do that,” Faith says into her daughter’s hair. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

~

They’re both passed out on the couch in a heap when Dean and Sam come back. Faith hadn’t realized how exhausted she’d become, never sleeping more than a few hours a night.

“Hi Daddy,” Jan mumbles as Dean shakes her, telling her to “get her little ass in bed.” 

Jan starts to pout, but he whispers, “Don’t wake your mom up. She needs her rest.”

“Okay,” Jan says softly, and scuttles off. 

Those are the best and the strangest-sounding words Faith’s ever heard, but she pretends to still be asleep. It wouldn’t do to wuss out and cry. 

But she knows they’re going to survive this, even if they really are the Weirdest Family Ever..for real now.


End file.
